


What Do You Call The World?

by StrappingBisexualSailor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Feel-good, M/M, warm fuzzies in these troubled times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22750201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrappingBisexualSailor/pseuds/StrappingBisexualSailor
Summary: Dean wakes up in a pleasant new reality.  Who's f***ing with him and what's their endgame?Season 15 One-shotThe title is from a koan in the Book of Serenity (Zen Buddhism).
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	What Do You Call The World?

Dean felt different when he woke. Safe. He had no desire to open his eyes.

Somehow, he felt unperturbed by the unexpected tug on the sleeve of his t-shirt. He did not reach for his gun.

When he allowed himself to open his eyes in their own sleep-gritted time, he was looking at a child with bright blue eyes. His dark hair was dramatically mussed in a way that would be comical in any other circumstance. The two-year old's gaze was steady and peaceful, which seemed strange. It was full of familiarity and the unhurried simplicity of early childhood. What the child was doing at this moment was all that existed to the child.

"Hey..." Dean's voice came out different than he expected. Smooth, unreserved, gentle, lyrical. He wasn't posturing, holding back hidden pain in the depths of his throat. He hadn't realized that tightness had ever existed until this moment. The surprising absence of a time-worn sensation was all that made him aware he had been tense.

The child was swinging one arm around as he let his body fluidly turn back and forth around the axis of his spine, sucking his thumb.

Dean found himself in a sunny bedroom, which was no less surprising than the fact he hadn't checked his surroundings the moment he woke. The last thing he remembered, he'd been drinking with Sam in the war room, privately hoping he could dull the pain of his fight with Cas. If it could be called a fight. He'd basically just hauled off and blamed Cas for his mom's death, and practically every other bad thing that had ever happened. Out of nowhere. He felt powerless for possibly the first time in his life. Something in him, some manic inner disbelief in the possibility of bad outcomes, had always let him feel at least a little invincible. But if he couldn't control himself from hurting his best friend in such a deranged and absurd way--if it had come out of him without any forethought, bubbling up from somewhere deep and primordial--maybe he couldn't control anything. Maybe Chuck had always had access to all the puppet-strings. Maybe his perceived rebellion, the sense of free will that sustained him, had all been a plotline in a sick writer's self-aggrandizing drivel. He remembered telling a puppy-eyed Sam that the sole item on his bucket-list was to a create a new mixed drink--the Cosmic Joke.

Now he wondered what the punchline would be. Had Chuck whisked him into a Djinn dream of safety, of Home? And why? Or was this the last-gasp hallucination of a brain finally pickled to death by booze?

The child pulled on his sleeve again wordlessly, this time not letting go.

"Ok, kiddo."

Dean rose and stretched. His back felt much stiffer than usual, and his knees hurt. He looked down at the kid to see if he'd move, but he kept staring and sucking his thumb. Dean squatted experimentally, ready to back off if the kid freaked out. Because that should happen any time, now, right? Sure Dean had won over some kids' affection on cases before but that was when he was their protector, with his swaggering persona firmly in place. He was basically a cardboard cut-out of an action figure to a tiny child--their admiration wasn't about the real Dean.

This child quickly turned his head to the side and reached his arms out straight and stiff over Dean's shoulders. It took a second, but Dean finally realized the kid wanted to be picked up. He was being super patient about it. It felt like he was content to be here and accept whatever Dean did next, trustingly. Dean scooped him up and stood.

Letting the surreal peace stream warmly through his mind, he let himself follow his instincts to a staircase, and slowly down it. He could hear the sounds and smells of something delicious being prepared in the kitchen. "Sam?" He called out.

"He's not here yet," he heard Cas say casually, back turned as he pressed buttons on an oven.

"You're cooking." As the kid's big heavy head sunk into his trapezius ear-first, he surveyed the domestic scene in front of him.

"Yes, you looked tired," a flour-covered Cas murmured. Dean had approached the stove as if drawn magnetically, and found himself a mere three feet from Cas now.

"Would you check if I did it right?" Dean heard Cas call over his shoulder as he opened a drawer and pulled out silverware

"Did what right?"

"The cake."

Dean turned around to look where Cas indicated, at a slight misshapen three-tiered cake with blue and purple frosting.

"It looks good."

"Taste it. I could remake it if it's not, though I'm running a little late for that."

"No, too pretty, not worth messing up the icing."

Cas smiled like he hadn't ever smiled before. "I'm glad you like it."

The kid perked up at the sound of Cas's voice drawing nearer. He swiveled and held out his arms. Cas reached out and placed the child on his hip like it was the most natural thing in the world. Dean turned away, feeling flushed and teary at the picture the two of them made. He couldn't bear to interpret this place, these figures. He didn't dare wonder what it could mean. Was this Cas's kid? Were they all finally safe? Had Cas settled down with someone, and forgiven Dean enough to let him stay in his home, hold his kid, and attend this--presumably--birthday party?

It couldn't have been Cas's birthday. Well, Dean supposed not--if you're born before the sun, you shouldn't technically have a day in its orbit devoted to celebrating your creation. Cas deserved one though. Maybe he'd suggest picking one. 

"How old are you, kiddo?"

The kid held up two fingers. 

"Today?" Dean asked. 

The kid pointed at Dean. "You're very smart!" Cas told the child warmly, face beaming and fully tuned into the child. Dean was lost, but content to watch the touching interaction.

"I didn't do the writing yet. I know it's not traditional, but would you mind? He doesn't want to be put down." Dean wondered how the child had communicated that to Cas without words or gestures.

"Yeah, sure." Dean paused with an icing bag in his hand. He still didn't know Cas's kid's name. "What...what exactly, I mean... how do you want me to write it?"

"Write 'Happy Birthday, to my one true love.' And put _lots _of hearts around it." Cas said teasingly.__

__Dean's stomach sank. So this was for Cas's wife. He'd been mentally blanking that part out of this cozy picture, the fact that the wife would probably come in any second and disrupt the safe, warm feeling of connection in their little suburban tableau._ _

__"Dean, are you alright?"_ _

__"Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Not awake yet." He figured he'd let Cas slide on the teasing, but he was NOT drawing hearts on this woman's cake._ _

__"For real, though...I think you should write it."_ _

__"Ok, that's fair." Cas lowered the child to the floor and Dean shot the kid an apologetic look. He seemed happy to grab Cas's pocket and stare at Dean, though. Dean couldn't look away from those big blue eyes._ _

__"How's that?"_ _

__Dean turned suddenly and looked at the cake. This didn't compute. Cas was teasing again, or maybe even being cruel. He'd written Dean's name on the cake, and he did put a couple hearts around it. Not funny._ _

__Dean strode out of the kitchen, face burning. He didn't care that he was making a scene, that his actions were either a dead giveaway of how he really felt about Cas or inscrutably rude._ _

__"Here, Eli. Lick this clean for me, ok? Like this." He heard Cas croon from the other room. Dean looked at the ceiling and tried to breathe through his nose slowly, trying to let his tense jaw relax._ _

__"Did I do something wrong, Dean?" Cas spoke softly, touching his shoulder. "I can take the hearts off. I got carried away."_ _

__"It's not funny, Cas!"_ _

__"No, you're right, I know you don't like to be demonstrative. I respect that. I'll fix it before Sam gets here."_ _

__Dean spun around suddenly. He was totally lost._ _

__"Happy birthday, love." Cas said, grabbing one of Dean's hands in both of his own as he stood on tip-toe and literally kissed Dean's cheek. His face was still softened with apology, but neither teasing or distressed._ _

__The world warped softly and Dean could feel himself pulled through time, like he had been by angels in years past. He blinked rapidly, watching smoke plume from a candle in the middle of an altar of herbs and gemstones. Sam turned around, apparently having been the one to snuff the candle out._ _

__"I had to show you. You were losing hope."_ _


End file.
